


Alfie Solomons' Lover

by Magnetism_bind



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Falling In Love, M/M, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-29
Updated: 2014-11-29
Packaged: 2018-02-27 09:46:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2688227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magnetism_bind/pseuds/Magnetism_bind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alfie Solomons is only kind in the eyes of one man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alfie Solomons' Lover

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a tumblr prompt - I'd like Alfie Solomons to have a bit on the side. You know, a secret lover as in Joseph Gordon Levitt, Arthur, or what have you. Basically, for all that Solomons can be a right bastard and violent, he comes home at the end of the day and gradually softens for his love.

He's slender and dark and not Jewish, but Alfie can make an exception. He watches the young man in the shabby suit across the bar floor and thinks. "That's him."

He's not romantic, except... Except for the right pair of dark brown eyes, looking back at him with interest.

 *  *  *

“You want a drink?”

The young man nods. “Grand.” He accepts the glass and Alfie watches him raise it to his lips. "That's good, that is."

"Didn't quite catch your name." Alfie leans on the bar.

"Bernardo Martelli." The young man sticks out his hand. He's Italian and that's a problem. But one Alfie's willing to overlook. He shakes the young man’s hand and smiles.

*  *  *

He wants him, in spite of his Italian blood. It's not a good explanation for wanting him, and Alfie knows it. He sends a lad round, to find out information for him.  
  
Bernardo works as a clerk in the office of his uncle, a lawyer. He knows the law and people's avoidance of it. If he goes to church it's in another parish. As it turns out, he's half-Jewish, on his mother’s side, but his father was a gentile. Alfie finds he doesn't care.  
  
It's difficult to walk out with a boy not in his payroll, who doesn't know how the rules go. Oh he knows the rumors about Alfie Solomons alright. He has to have heard those.

But he doesn't seem to care, which is troubling in its own way. He should care. He should mind the rumors. He's a fool if he doesn't. He should mind how he goes and where.

*  *  *

“Did they warn you about me?” Alfie has to know, so he asks.

Bernardo gazes back at him. “They did.”

 *  *  *

“You want to be careful of that one.” His uncle had told him, pointing out Alfie Solomons on his first day in the office. Through the window Bernardo had watched the man make his way down the street. There was boldness in the man’s walk, confidence in his way. Bernardo wanted him to turn back so he could get a better look at his face.

“Why?” He’d asked.

His uncle mimed spitting on the floor. “That one, he’s no good.” He looked at his nephew. “You stay away from him. He’ll slit your throat as soon as look at you. Be careful."

“I’ll be careful.” Bernardo promised. But he didn’t promise to stay away from Alfie Solomons, and he wouldn’t make that promise.

*  *  *

Bernardo sees him in a fight once, a brawl out in the open street. Solomons fights, shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows, pummeling the other man with his fists. Bernardo stands there on the pavement, arrested by the sight of it. His uncle’s head clerk hurries him along, but he can’t resist looking back. Alfie spits a mouthful of blood and glances up. His eyes are vicious, his knuckles bloody– they remind Bernardo of a bear he once saw at a carnival, trapped and wild in the ring.

 *  *  *

“And you’re not afraid of me?”

Bernardo smiles. “Should I be afraid of you?”

“Yes,” Alfie says. He’ll warn the boy and the boy will go his way. It’ll be the end of the matter. It’ll be best.

Instead Bernardo reaches past him for the bottle and pours himself another drink. "Why don't you tell me why then?"

 *  *  *

He takes Bernardo to a small clean hotel where the staff are quiet and mind their own business.

Alfie undresses him in that room, laying him out on the bed. Bernardo gazes up at him, eyes half-lidded in amusement. Alfie crawls over him, pressing his open mouth to the young man’s bare neck, as he unbuttons his top button.

“I can do that.” Bernardo reaches for his buttons.

“Let me.” Alfie kisses his lip. “Let me touch you.”

Bernardo lies back then and lets him do just that.

*  *  *

Camden Town learns to fear the name of Alfie Solomons. His business swells and booms, and Bernardo hears people speak of him with tentative lips. He knows better than they do.

He doesn’t brag, though it’s tempting.

He knows what Alfie Solomons is truly like, under the bluster and the violence, the rumors and the legends. Alfie’s all that too, but underneath, well, Bernardo wouldn’t trade that man away for all the tea in China.

 *  *  *

Sometimes Alfie comes to him smelling of his bakery, and sometimes he comes stinking of the sewers, with blood lining the creases of his nails. There’s always fresh water in the basin and he washes off before he comes to bed. His beard nuzzles at Bernardo’s thighs and Bernardo curls his fingers though Alfie’s hair.

*  *  *

Sometimes Alfie wakes in the dark, startled at the sound of breath not his own. The nights are long, except when he’s in bed beside Bernardo. On these nights he lies there, gazing at the young man asleep beside him, and wonders how he’s gotten so blessed, and so cursed. It’s all in how it you look at it, and Alfie thinks he’s both.

 *  *  *

Once, Bernardo’s in a pub with the other clerk after the office has closed. The next table over there’s a factory man mouthing off about how things are unfair these days because of the Jews, complaining that if Sabini would just deal with that cocksucker Solomons, business would be good again. Things would be how they should.

He casts a look at Bernardo as he says this, like he knows the secrets of him, but it’s just a look. It’s just talk. If the man had ever dared touch him, Bernardo knows what Solomons would do.

 *  *  *

“What’re you thinking of?” Alfie asks. He’s seated at the desk, going over his ledger before he comes back to bed. His shirt’s unbuttoned, vest off, suspenders down to his thighs.

Bernardo’s lying on his back on the wrinkled sheets, one thin arm behind his head as he smokes. He’s naked, too lazy to pull his underclothes back on.

“You.” Bernardo tells him.

Alfie pushes his spectacles back up his nose, looking over at him. “There are other men you could be thinking of.”

Bernardo takes a last puff, before leaning over to stub his cigarette out. “And what would you do if I were?” He rolls over on his stomach, resting his chin on his folded arms. Waiting for an answer.

Alfie takes his spectacles off and lays them on the desk. Rising to his feet he goes over to stand beside the bed. Bernardo watches as he pulls his shirt up over his head and takes it off.

Alfie settles on the bed, placing a hand on Bernardo’s lower back. He drops a kiss to his neck, working his way down Bernardo’s spine. His palm squeezes lightly at the curve of his ass.

“Well?” Bernardo turns his head, looking sideways at him. “What would you do?” He watches  Alfie draw a breath and release it, the lines of his face tighten, and then as Bernardo rolls over on his back to look up at him, Alfie smiles.

Alfie spreads his palm flat over his chest, resting over Bernardo's heart. “Do you really want to know?”

Bernardo takes his hand and kisses it, each calloused fingertip. “I already know.”

“Good.” Alfie leans over him. His fingertips brush over Bernardo’s throat, down his chest.

Bernardo’s well aware the sort of man he’s in bed with, and he knows too the danger it brings. He wraps his arms around Alfie and still knows he doesn't care.

Alfie on the other hand, he knows he’s in love and that brings its own measure of danger. His hand interlocks with Bernardo’s as Alfie lowers his lips to kiss him.


End file.
